FicWad

Don't own anything but the plot, don't sue. I'm making no profit off of this. Gerard way, frank iero copyright themselves.

I half helped, half carried Frankie up the stairs. The stairwell to the old apartment I lived in was dimly lit and cobwebbed covered. The place was falling down, but it was outside of town, near a liquor store which drew in plenty of people like Frankie here for me, and had virtually no rules. No rules was a
necessity for me so I could hang my things up and take away some of the loneliness in the decor that any empty or undecorated apartment had.
Going up the stairs was a real challenge, not only did I have Frankie mostly depending on me for support, the carpet sagged from years of water damage. The soundtrack to our trek was a barrage of interesting sounds. No-one cared who came and went in these apartments. Even being outside of the middle sized town that Belleville was, the no rules generated quite a crowd. Who knew what could be going on behind closed doors. Who really cared? Certainly not me, I had my own life to deal with, enough life for five people actually.
My efforts were rewarded once we got to my apartment door, number thirteen on the third floor out of a total of five. I had to prop Frankie up against the grimy wall while I fumbled around in my pocket for the tie die key, which a copy courtesy of the local supermarket. I didn't like the bland grey/silver key assigned to me by the landlord. I stuck the key into the mock pewter doorknob and turned it, grabbing Frank off of the wall and leading him in.
Personally, the first thing I notice when entering my home is the incense that I made myself burning. Yes, I am that amazing, I make my own incense to burn. That cheap stuff they sell at the store just doesn't have the fragrance that homemade incense has. The second thing to notice is my paintings, signs, and pictures hanging on the wall. Every one of them has a story behind it. Every one of them is a memory that can't be replaced. A strong wave of nostalgia passed over me at the sight of the pictures. It's almost enough to make a man cry, almost, not quite.
Frank almost falling over snapped me out of my thoughts. I managed to catch him right before he hit the ground. He seemed to have passed out on me and was now dead weight, not that he weighed very much. He had light clothing on for the heat of summer and he was rather frail already. The first step in this project would be to feed him a cheeseburger, fatten him up a little so he didn't die on me. I led him over to a ghastly floral print couch. I hated it but it was okay because I happened to love the pawn shop it came from. Even though I certainly had the money to refurbish my house with brand new furniture, I couldn't break the habit of buying from pawn shops.
He was successfully stowed away on the couch, and I went to the kitchen to start cooking. He'll be hungry when he wakes up and I was going to be prepared. I put a big name brand pan out on the stove, turned it on high and dropped some butter in there to melt. I found eggs and bacon out in the fridge, cracking the eggs on the edge of the counter before dropping them in the skillet with a [i]plop.[/i] I moved the eggs to the side of the larger pan and put strips of bacon in the rest of it. I let those fry while opening a bag of fries and spreading them out on the pan while with the other hand I preheated the oven, now we would have bacon, eggs, and fries for the both of us when he woke up.
It was done and tucked away in the microwave to keep warm I went back and sat in a blue, leather recliner and waited for him to awake. He made some of the cutest sounds when he was sleeping, whether he was intoxicated or not. Despite my best efforts I found myself dozing...